


Illogical

by masterwords



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Headaches & Migraines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24831928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterwords/pseuds/masterwords
Summary: Kirk has a migraine, and in classic Kirk fashion, he shows up to work anyway.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 11
Kudos: 172





	Illogical

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little shorty fic that made me smile.

The Captain's chair felt restrictive and cold to the touch. Every inch of Jim's body ached under the weight of the pain in his head. He peered at the viewscreen for moments at a time through squinted eyes, but the lights were too bright to continue looking too long. 

“Yeoman,” Jim called in a commanding but quiet voice, “could you please bring me a coffee?” The pretty young lady nodded silently and scurried away, leaving Jim alone on the bridge, save for the young man from engineering who was half asleep monitoring the helm. The shift change was about to take place, and his Alpha shift crew would be coming to man their stations. He liked to be there before they showed up, to enjoy the silence in the few minutes between, but today his head was throbbing and his body ached and enjoyment wasn't at the top of his list. Still, the silence was blessed.

By the time Spock swept onto the bridge, always just a minute earlier than everyone else, Jim had downed two scalding hot cups of coffee and was attempting to clear the fog and focus on his job. His thoughts had turned rather dramatic in the silence – for instance, at that moment he was lost in the wonder at how his fingerprints even seemed to hurt. 

“Good morning, Spock,” Jim said, inclining his head slightly to look at his First Officer. His neck and shoulder muscles screamed at him for the motion, and he swallowed hard against the pain and forced a soft smile at his friend. “Our orders came in early, and state to remain patrolling the Romulan Neutral Zone, nothing has changed.” 

Spock raised an eyebrow slightly and nodded his acceptance of the orders. He could sense his friend's pain, but he knew Jim well enough not to pry – if he was putting up the facade of being fine, Spock would accept that as fact, at least for a brief time. 

“Captain,” Spock began, as delicately as possible. “Have you taken breakfast yet?”

“No,” Jim replied. “I had some trouble sleeping, so I relieved the night crew early. I haven't had the chance.” Jim waited until Spock looked down at his viewscreen before placing his hand on his forehead, massaging his eyebrows with his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed his eyes shut against the lights and watched the fireworks of colors dance in the black behind his eyelids, feeling his stomach churn. He wouldn't be able to maintain composure much longer, the coffee had helped momentarily but was now wreaking havoc on his empty stomach. 

The whoosh of the airlock broke Jim from his trance and he let his hand fall to rest on the arm of his chair. Blinking and looking at the stars ahead of him again, he listened as Chekov and Sulu came crashing through the bridge door sounding like a herd of elephants. The two of them were in some sort of jovial argument about whatever they'd eaten for breakfast and what it reminded them of, but all Jim heard was deafening roars and the blood pounding in his ears. He shut his eyes against the noise and sucked in a deep breath, trying to center himself, and was about to take another sharp breath when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. 

“Captain,” the deep voice began. It was Spock. He knew. Jim let out his breath, sinking into the chair almost like a sullen child before straightening back up. “Shall we leave the conn to Sulu for a moment and get some food?” Jim wanted to protest, everything in him wanted to say no and he was fine, but with Spock's hand on his shoulder he knew he wouldn't be able to lie about anything. He simply nodded and swallowed hard against the nausea burning through his stomach. Food was the last thing on his mind, but getting off of the bridge was sounding very enticing for the moment. 

“Mister Sulu,” Jim began, standing up with great effort on legs that did not want to support his weight, “you have the conn for a bit. Mister Spock and I are going to see to some breakfast.” 

“Yes Captain,” Sulu replied with a look that was filled with both understanding and kindness. Sulu had been with the Captain long enough to know if something was off and he was glad that he wouldn't have to be the one to force the Captain off of the bridge – it looked like Spock was taking the lead this time. Chekov turned to watch as the Captain made his way slowly, visibly unsteady, toward the door, ready to jump up if need arose. When Spock joined the Captain by his side, Chekov eased back into his seat, confident that his services weren't required at the moment. 

“I will be available to return immediately, if needed,” Spock said sternly, turning around briefly to the crew with a look that had the words “do not disturb the Captain” written all over it. 

“Aye, sir,” came the replies from both Sulu and Chekov as the bridge door zipped closed, shutting the Vulcan and his Captain in the turbolift. 

“Deck Five,” Spock commanded, not daring a glance at Jim just yet. 

“I thought you said,” Jim began, but Spock shot him a look that told him protest would not end in his favor. “Right.” 

“Captain,” Spock began in his usual calm manner, “By my observation, you are in no condition to be on duty, let alone in command of this ship. I believe Doctor McCoy would agree. You know I would follow your command even now if you so insisted, but we are patrolling the Romulan Neutral Zone with no end in sight and are in no immediate danger. Surely now is as good a time as any to take a day of leave.”

Jim contemplated this for a moment, as though Spock was going to give him any choice in the matter. He closed his eyes against the bright lights of the turbolift and felt the cool metal of the walls against his back while they made their way down to the deck five. He tried to steady his breathing, inhaling deeply, but it just flooded his senses with the smell of Spock and that wasn't helping him at all. Spock's smell was crisp and soft, like warm cedarwood and cool rain, but warm and inviting. He let his senses swim in the smell, breathing it in as deeply as he could. 

“Spock, I'm not good at this,” Jim sighed, letting one hand drift mindlessly to his head, rubbing at his forehead softly. “Slowing down, I mean. The ship needs me, the crew needs me,” he started, but noticed Spock looking at him curiously. 

“Correct, Captain, but we need you to be healthy and alert. Your present status not only poses a danger to yourself, but a danger to the ship and crew as well. You must recognize that?” 

Jim contemplated for a moment, sinking back against the wall, as if his pride had been deflated like a party balloon. He suddenly felt the weight of his migraine and exhaustion all at once and thought he might be crushed under it all. 

“I do.” It was all he could muster before the doors opened onto deck five and the two men stepped out of the turbolift. Jim looked down toward the ground, attempting to shield himself from the glaring lights which seemed so much brighter than they'd been just two hours prior when he was on his way to the bridge. They walked silently down the hall, Spock just a little too close to his friend, every so often their hands brushing against one another until they reached Jim's door. Once inside his quarters, Jim let out an audible sigh of relief as the lights were low and the air was very cool. He pulled his tunic over his head and wiped at the sweat on his forehead with it before tossing it aside. Spock stood sentinel, silently watching his friend's movements in the dim twilight of the room. 

“Can I bring you anything?” Spock asked, watching Jim move slowly about the room curiously. 

“I, uh...” Jim began, stopping to lean against the wall for a moment. Spock recognized immediately that he needed to move and barely rushed to his friend in time to catch him as his legs gave way. For a moment, Spock stood with his friend limp in his arms, conscious but weak, and assessed the situation before making any moves. He could feel Jim's pain through their touch, and when he felt it would be acceptable, gently guided his friend across the room and laid him on his bed. 

“Captain,” Spock began, kneeling beside the bed. He contemplated silently for a moment before beginning again, this time in a softer, less formal tone. “Jim...” 

“I'm ok. Just a migraine...haven't eaten or slept in a few days...I'm OK, really. Just need to sleep.” 

“Shall I get Dr. McCoy to give you something to help?”

“No. He fusses so much...” Jim muttered, sinking deep into the comfort of his bed. Spock nodded in agreement and settled onto his haunches, resting his chin on Jim's bed in a childlike way that made Jim smile. He could feel the throbbing in his head, the rushing of the blood behind his ears and the jackhammer against his eyes, but he felt peaceful now. 

“How can I help?” Spock asked, his dark eyes twinkling in the dim room. Jim looked over at him, his hazel eyes with their heavy lids nearly closed now, and blinked slowly. 

“Stay,” he whispered, finally drifting into sleep. Spock smiled and twisted around, letting his back rest against Jim's bed. He would do as his friend wished so long as he wasn't needed anywhere else. These long days along the neutral zone had a way of stretching endlessly, the boredom driving some of the crew to the brink of insanity, but this part wasn't so bad. This part, where Jim and Spock dipped their toes into the deep waters of whatever their relationship was or might become, this part was OK. 

“Illogical,” he muttered under his breath, but he was still smiling as he settled in. In the dark of Jim's room, no one would see it, so he made no effort to conceal it.


End file.
